


Hurtling Through The Dark

by AsheTarasovich (natalieashe), Boffin1710, natalieashe



Series: Can't Drown My Demons, They Know How To Swim [6]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Drinking to Cope, Drunk Alec, Established Relationship, M/M, Sleeping Q
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 01:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6833452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/pseuds/AsheTarasovich, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boffin1710/pseuds/Boffin1710, https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/pseuds/natalieashe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life in the field is not all cocktail parties and casinos.  Like most Double Os, Alec drinks to blot out the horrors he witnesses and creates.  But even he is starting to feel his reliance on the bottle is a problem when the times he wants to remember become blanks in his memory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurtling Through The Dark

It's dark.  Dark in the bedroom.  Darker still in his head.  Q curls against his side, warm and heavy with sleep.  His young lover is restless as ever, shifting fitfully as he dozes, but he is finally giving in to exhaustion.  Finally allowing his head to loll against Alec's shoulder.  Finally letting the stream of half lucid babble tail off into silence, punctuated by small sighing breaths.   
  
Whatever the fuck they bantered about, it wasn't enough to disturb Q tonight. Alec doesn't remember, and that thought alone has him wakeful.  Not remembering, not caring.  He hugs Q to him, one arm around his thin shoulders.  Q whimpers and a skinny thigh slides over Alec's left leg, Q's bony knee falling between Alec's legs.   
  
He does care.  Alec hates the confusion, the twisting paths that invade his mind, seeping in with each glass.  Even his laughter is dark.  He hates the blank white fog that obscures people, places, things.  In the morning it swirls, teasing tortuous glimpses of the night before.  He wants to remember.  This life is too damn short not to.   
  
It's always cold in the dark, even with the heat of his lover half sprawled over his body.  If he closes his eyes the world falls away.  His body hurtles towards the ceiling at dizzying speed until he snaps his eyes open.  Stares at the ceiling, exactly where it should be.  Sweat soaks the hair at his hairline and he swears never again.  This is the end of it.  Before it's the end of him.   
  
  



End file.
